


The Sweetest Fears

by GemmaRose



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Immortality, Pitch is a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her brother, Emilia Overland's belief in the terrors of the night only strengthens. Pitch discovers her several years later, and rather than feeding on her fear directly he takes a liking to her.</p>
<p>de-anon from RotG-kink</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Fears

The sweetest fears, Pitch mused, were not the ones which thrummed just under the skin. Nor were they the ones which flitted like bats across the mind in times of danger. No, the sweetest of fears were the ones which were woven into a person's very core. Fear of death, fear of attack, fear of the dark, and in the rare occasion, fear of loss.

The young woman held herself tall, chin up and smile bright as she chatted idly with another village girl, but even from the middle of the forest he'd been able to sense it, taste it. She picked up her basket, and bid the other woman goodbye, and began walking through the darkening streets to the home she shared with her mother. On a whim Pitch trailed after her, and as he neared she began to walk faster. Villagers he passed made excuses to get inside, and as he dogged young Emilia's steps she walked faster. He slipped in as a shadow under the door, and as she put away the contents of her basket he scanned the small cabin. The mother was asleep in the back room under two quilts, and when Emma glanced at the closed door Pitch felt her pang of fear that any day illness would leave her completely alone.

He watched from a corner as she unpinned her hair from its braided bun, and when she picked up the simple wooden comb he stepped out of the shadows. It had been far too long since he'd properly terrorised a human, and she was so perfectly terrified to begin with.

To his eternal surprise, when he stepped over to the foot of her cot she looked up and directly at him. In an instant her fear vanished, and even centuries later Pitch could not explain his following actions. She had held up her arms, like a child asking to be lifted, and he had knelt to embrace her. Her hands were warm, and Pitch did not question when she laid her head on his shoulder. Hours later, when he left so her dreams would be sweet, he pretended that his robe's shoulder wasn't soaked through and beginning to dry awkwardly.

\-----

The next time he saw Emilia was at the first thaw, when the heady mix of grief and fear wafted down to him in his lair. She was kneeling by the half-frozen lake, and flowers littered the shore and still surface in front of her. The irritating frost sprite who had appeared a few years back was lounging in a tree top, and Pitch shooed him away with a few fears of rejection before kneeling at Emma's side. He could feel the mud staining his robes, but as he stroked her hair it didn't seem to matter so much. She spilled out the whole story of her brother's death, emphasising her part, and Pitch tutted and hummed sympathetically in the right places. And for the first time in eons, he reached out to a human and pulled a tiny fear away. She kissed him on the cheek in farewell, and when she left Pitch sat by the water for another while. Not even the knowledge of his flowery circlet was enough to make him rethink his interactions with the girl, even when the winter sprite came back and froze it into a tiara.

\-----

The third time he was called deliberately, and her fear of being caught summoning a monster was enough to draw him out of his plotting. She threw her arms around his waist when he arrived, and as shadows set to scrubbing charcoal marks from the floor he whispered soothing words in her ear. She was odd, to be sure, but odd was a nice change from his everyday existence. When she went to sleep, Pitch laid her carefully in bed and pulled the raggedy blanket around her. The routine felt familiar, but as he turned to leave she whimpered in her sleep. His very presence caused nightmares for humans more sensitive to the supernatural, and to his confusion the Dreamsand which curled over her head was sparkling black when he arrived. A small girl, a taller boy falling through the ground, an old woman collapsing into dust. The dream-girl fell to her knees, crying, and on a whim Pitch crafted a tiny shadow duplicate of himself. She smiled, and Pitch backed away so she could enjoy her dream.

When he left, he took a little more of her fear with him.

\-----

He sees her many times after the night of the ruined dream, but it is not until the death of her mother that she calls for him again. This time there are no candles or charcoal circle, but her whispered plea at midnight is even more powerful. He should be terrorising this woman, the only one who has seen him in years, but instead he sings to her and keeps her company. She has no close friends, no suitors, and now no family. She should be an easy target, with her ingrained fear of failure, but he cannot bring himself to harm this girl. She kisses him tenderly, lips lingering perhaps a second too long on his cheek, and when she pulls away her breath ghosts over his skin like a warm wind. Somehow she even manages to fall asleep in his arms, despite the fact that he is fear embodied. This time he leaves before he can taint her golden dreams of a happier time, but in the back of his mind an idea begins to grow.

\-----

Her next call is two years after her mother's death, and the fear it's laced with draws Pitch to the spot like a magnet. She has been driven into the woods and surrounded by three large men with lecherous smiles. A simple dose of fear will not scare these predators off, so Pitch rushes to her side and sweeps her off her feet. Two strides later they are back just outside of town, and he checks that she is unharmed before sending her on her way.

The very next morning he is called back to the edge of the lake, and when she reports that she has been sentenced to hang at noontime his blood boils. Two men flank her on either side, and heavy iron chains bind her from wrist to elbow. A dab of fear incites a squabble amongst her guards, and in the confusion he snaps her bindings and brings her to her home. She gathers her few things without instruction, and when they are packed tightly into an old rucksack he holds out his hand. She takes it, and he feels her fears all but vanish. It is oddly pleasant, to know he has a calming effect on her.

They step into his Lair, and her awe is palpable. He gives her a room and she thanks him with a brief, absolutely chaste kiss on the lips. He returns to his planning, but keeps reaching up to touch his mouth and smile gently.

\-----

He brings her food every day, and she knows better than to ask where it comes from. She enjoys curry the most, and sauerkraut is her second favourite. He makes sure to get her one of the two each week, and as for the rest he picks up loaded plates from the tables of fat kings. By the end of her first month she has begun to fill out, cheekbones vanishing under rosy cheeks reveal that she has dimples, and as her body returns to that of a healthy woman he realises she is not unattractive. Her dress is old, and after agreeing to pick on arachnaphobes more frequently he is able to present her with a small wardrobe full of dresses. Even without the expensive fabrics and elaborate jeweling of true royalty's garb she looks like a queen, and as they eat in companionable silence he knows with utter certainty that she would be his if he asked.

\-----

She cries when he asks if she would like to marry him, and it takes five minutes of platitudes before she can coherently explain that she didn't realise they were not bound already. He promises her a ring, and a nicer bedroom. She blushes, and in the end he petitions Hephaestus for two simple bands of star-bronze. The god of the forge outdoes himself again, making two braids of iron and silver and the requested bronze which fit by magic. Her bed is replaced with a larger one, no bigger than what her parents had, which he pulled through the shadows from the home of a family taken by wendigos.

The intertwined metals look very nice on her pale ring finger, though he wishes he could've gotten her a proper band set with the gemstones of their star-months, and when he promises to find a spirit who will officiate it she kisses him properly for the first time. She is warm in his arms, like a captive star, and he vows to himself that they will have a proper ceremony before the year is up.

\-----

It takes no small amount of pleading, but eventually he manages to set up the ceremony for the anniversary of her brother's death. Cupid agrees to forgo the toga and look like a biblical angel while playing priest, and the handful of spirits who don't laugh in his face for marrying a mortal agree to witness the ceremony. Emma turns bright red when he brings her to Arachne for the making of a wedding gown, but relents when she sees the first sample dress. Pitch leaves them to it and gets to work on fixing up a room to be theirs, as well as planning how to make her immortal without the help of the Tsar Lunar.

\-----

He fidgets at the ancient altar, and Thanatos pinches his arm to stop him. A pair of brunette spring spirits skip arm in arm down the aisle, shedding lily and dahlia petals as they go, and Pitch hesitates for a moment before turning to look. Emma is practically glowing, and their eyes meet for a moment before she blushes and looks down at her bouquet of white and black calla lilies. Her dress is simple, loose silk which drapes from her shoulders and wraps around her hips, and her hair is piled in a tousled heap atop her head. The Grecian influence is easy to see, and Pitch smiled. If a mortal man could see her now, she could easily be mistaken for Aphrodite herself.

"You look beautiful." he whispers when she stops at his side.

She blushes and smiles shyly, and Cupid begins reading the vows. When the time comes to exchange rings, little red-skinned Tuyul trots up with a gold-hemmed black pillow. Emma gasps quietly as Pitch picks up a narrow gold band set with one tiny faceted bloodstone on either side of a black pearl. “This ring I give you as a promise, Emilia." he intones quietly, sliding it onto her finger next to the braided engagement ring. "As a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love, I place my heart in your hands.”

Emma smiles and picks up the larger of the two rings, set with a single faceted bloodstone in the middle and a tiny black pearl on either side. "This ring is my promise to you, Pitch, that as long as our love shall last I will cherish you. My life is yours."

Cupid grins. "Do you, Emilia Overland take this man, Pitch Black as your husband, to love him and to honour him, to nurture and support him, in times of joy and in times of difficulty? Do you promise to remain by his side regardless of what trouble befalls you, and in the presence of temptation to forsake this love, do you promise to remain steadfast and true? Do you promise with all your heart and soul to honour this vow as long as your love shall last?"

"I do."

He turns to Pitch, grinning wider. "Do you, Pitch Black take this woman, Emilia Overland as your wife, to love her and to honor her, to nurture and support her, in times of joy and in times of difficulty? Do you promise to remain by her side regardless of what trouble befalls you, and in the presence of temptation to forsake this love, do you promise to remain steadfast and true? Do you promise with all your heart and soul to honor this vow as long as your love shall last?"

Pitch smiles tenderly at Emma, holding her hands in his. "I do."

Cupid beams and closes the book. "You may now kiss the bride."

Pitch leans in and Emma slides her arms around his neck for a deep, albeit brief, kiss. There's a smattering of applause, and Pitch holds her hand as they walk back down the aisle.

\-----

Pitch curls around his new wife, listening to the beat of her heart as she slept. Thanatos offered him a deal, and he's going to make this decision before it's too late. If he gives up his ability to function without sleep, halves his status in the spirit world, and surrendered up every favour Thanatos owed him, his friend would pull the necessary strings to keep Emma young and alive forever.

"You still awake?" Emma mumbles sleepily, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.

Pitch nods, placing his hand over hers.

"Something on your mind?"

He nods again. "Thanatos offered me a deal."

"Thanatos?"

"One of my friends. He said that for a small price, he could make sure you stay as you are."

Emma gasps quietly. "Immortal? Like you?"

He nods once. "The Man in the Moon would never grant eternity to you for my sake, and I will not risk losing you."

Emma grins and kisses him. "I love you."

He returns the smile and pulls her head against his chest. "And I, you. Sleep now, Emma. I'll keep the bad dreams away."

She grins and shuts her eyes, snuggling closer to her husband. Sleep comes quickly, and it is utterly dreamless.

\-----

Pitch presses a hand to his side, muttering curses under his breath in the ancient tongue of the Constellations. Trust a Death God to tweak his deal at the last second. Leaning against a tree, he keeps muttering darkly. Damn vampires and their life-granting powers. And to top it off he's now gone from 17:0 to 0:1 on their scale of favours owed.

He grips a branch and looks at his ring, taking comfort in the blood stone now nestled in a four-strand braid. The potion in his pocket has already made this ordeal worthwhile. Once she drinks it, Emma Black will become an immortal, and they can rule the night together for eternity. A little pain, dizziness, and bruised ego are a small price to pay for a guarantee of her longevity.

The entrance to his lair isn't far when it begins to snow, and Pitch curses again. "Frost, I know it's you." he snarls, glaring at the trees.

The teen drops in front of him with a wide grin. "How'd ya know?"

Pitch scowls, straightening himself. A minor weather spirit will see him weak on the day he dies, and no sooner. "You seem to have taken up residence over my lake. It's _always_ you."

The boy grins and leaps up into a tree. Were he not so drained of energy Pitch would shunt the impudent child off to the Sahara or some such place, but woozy as he is from blood loss he can't even become a shadow, let alone command one. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have business."

He begins to walk, and to his eternal annoyance the boy drops down to walk beside him. "What sort of business?"

Pitch snarls. He just has to get back to his lair and lie down for a few hours. Just another mile or so and he'll be home. "If you absolutely must know, you annoying pest, it's a delivery."

Frost tilts his head curiously. "What sort of delivery? Could I help? I could fly it wherever it has to go."

Pitch scowls at the boy, his desire to outright behead the spirit child growing with every second. "No, you may not help." he snaps. "It is extremely delicate, and I will not chance you to drop it."

The white-haired teen pouts. "Pleeeease?"

"No. Now for the last time, leave me alone."

The boy scowls, and as the wind scoops him up it also flings a snowdrift on Pitch. He falls over spluttering and shivering, and the rest of his trek home takes more than an hour.

Emma greets him with open arms and a kiss, and when he presents the vial of purple liquid she clapped her hands to her mouth. "You did it."

He smiles and brushes a loose hair behind her ear. "All it needs is one of your hairs, and then you drink it."

She beams and kisses him again, reaching up to her beautiful long hair. The strand comes loose with a single tug and a small wince, and she carefully lowers it into the potion. It bubbles and glows white, and when it settles down again the liquid has turned sapphire blue.

Emma takes the vial carefully and sniffs it. Tipping the container back, she swallows the contents and makes a face. "Tastes like dirt."

Pitch chuckles. "I suppose you speak from experience?"

She sticks out her tongue, which now sports a blue stripe down the middle. "I was five."

He chuckles again and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head. "I need to lie down." he murmurs. "Thanatos required my blood to make the potion, and to pay the vampire who made it."

Emma makes a concerned sound and slides an arm around his waist supportively. "I'll lie down with you. I feel a bit faint myself."

He smiles and puts an arm around her so his hand rests on her hip. "And when we wake, you shall be an immortal to put Aphrodite herself to shame."

Emma giggles and rests her head on his shoulder. "Stop it, or she'll turn you into a goat for the insult."

Pitch smiles and pulls her closer. "Don't ever change, Emma." he murmurs as they enter their room.

\-----

Pitch wakes to an empty bed. The sheets next to him are still warm, though, and he can hear water running. Chuckling to himself, he sits up and stretches. His side still aches, and his vision goes bright black for a moment, but aside from that he feels fine. A shadow moves at his silent command, and he nods once in satisfaction. He has not been stripped of his powers, merely a bit of his dignity and status. Both of which he can regain very quickly.

Standing, he walks into the tiled bathroom. Emma had been quite enchanted when he told her about showers, a device from the Golden Age which man here had not yet invented, and so had added bathing to her morning routine. The curtain shows only her silhouette, and Pitch sheds his clothes silently next to hers before stepping in behind her.

"Good morning." he whispers in her ear, kissing the delicate skin of her neck.

She giggles and turned to kiss him properly. "Good morning yourself, sleepyhead."

Her eyes still shine warm and brown in a pale face, but gold flecks her irises and her skin has taken on an ashen tint. "How do you feel?"

She grins. "Amazing. Like I could fly."

Pitch chuckles. Maybe she does have that power, but he doesn't want to test that any time soon lest they be wrong. "That's good. The potion is working."

She kisses his jaw and turns to grab the soap. "Would you do my hair?"

"Of course." he smiles. Somehow the request feels familiar, though she had staunchly refused to be naked before him any time prior to their wedding.

She leans her head back as he massages the suds into her scalp, humming happily. "You are the best husband."

He smiles and kisses her cheek. "Only for you, my dearest."

\-----

In one week Emma's transformation was complete, her almost-black hair and golden eyes flecked with brown the only sign that she'd ever been a human. By the end of their first year of marriage she had developed some weak shadow powers, and by the end of their tenth she spent her nights roaming with Pitch. She never developed a hunger for fear, but instead a hunger for knowledge. The dreams she neared would turn dun and brown, so her favoured pastime in evenings was snatching books to stock the library. Her library, for Pitch had always been more prone to swordplay and battle strategies than epic tales of adventure and romance.

Two hundred years passed like that in the blink of an eye, and then one night Pitch did something unusual. He gave her an order. She was to stay inside, only go between their room and the library and always use the back way. She had not seen him so nervous since the evening he proposed, and so her answer was an immediate "yes."

He gave her his ring so it wouldn't get dirty, promised he would be safe, and told her to ignore anything she heard. One Nightmare, which she had named chocolate for its brown tint, trotted over to her side and nuzzled at her hand.

Then her husband was gone, and she was alone with the pet of his that had taken such a liking to her. There was a second horse, Caramel, which greeted her in the empty stables and followed her to the library. There were muffled voices at one point, one of them Pitch's, but she rolled her eyes and went back to her latest book. She was on her tenth novel when she heard the screams, and Mistborn was dropped without heed for pages or spine or place-marking.

"Pitch!" she cried, rushing down the hall. "Get off of him you beasts, get back!" she shoved at the NightMares, turning them to dust one by one until the remainder fled of their own accord. Pitch was bruised, bleeding in a few places, and it was doubtless his nose was not the only thing broken. Emma fell to her knees and pulled him close, cradling him to her chest.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled thickly. His nose was broken and his lip already swelling up.

"Am _I_ alright? Pitch, what happened to you?"

He tried to push himself up and winced, letting Emma lay him back down. "I was foolish." he muttered. "The Guardians enlisted a powerful spirit to aide them."

Emma tsk'd and stopped checking her husband's wounds for a moment to pull open their shadows and deposit them in her old room. The bed sheets there weren't as nice anyways. "I thought you said you'd be safe."

Pitch smiled apologetically as she reached under the bed and pulled out a First Aide kit. "I almost had them. Then you could've been the world's queen."

She sighed and rapped him on the head. "I swear I've told you a thousand times. I don't want to be Queen of the Earth, that'd just mean constant bickering with Mother Nature. I'm happy just being _your_ queen."

He chuckled, but it turned into a groan as she wrapped his broken arm. "I'm sorry."

She smiled and kissed him gently, running a hand down his cheek. "I could call in a favour, get Mother Nature to heal you up."

He shook his head mulishly. "I'll heal fine on my own. I've had worse."

Emma rolled her eyes and poked his belly button, making him wince and hiss in pain. "That was before you paid for my life with your regenerative powers. Now, I'll have to play the non-sexy type of nurse."

There was a flicker of fear, and Pitch looked up at his wife in concern. "You're worried." 

She nodded.

"About me?"

She nodded again, taking his hand and clasping it to her face. "I've outlived my parents, my brother, and my friends. I don't want to outlive my husband as well."

Pitch sighed softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "They would have dissipated before killing me. It's a built-in fail safe of sorts."

"But who's to say they wouldn't have destroyed you in your own mind?" she snapped, hot black tears dripping from her eyes. "If I'd been slower, if I hadn't found you in time-"

Pitch placed a finger to her lips, shushing her gently. "But you did find me, and that's what matters. I'm still here. I'll always be here."

She chuckled weakly. "Can't kill fear, right."

"Precisely." he nodded, twining his fingers with hers. "It'll take much more than a few NightMare to separate us."

Emma fished the ring from her pocket and slid it back on his finger. "As long as our love lasts, my life is yours."

Pitch grinned and pulled her down for a quick kiss. "I'm sorry I worried you." he murmured. "It won't happen again."

"It better not." she grinned, giving him a quick peck in return. "I'd have to drag you home by the ear and tie you to the bed."

Pitch grinned and let her continue tending his wounds, wrapping his fractured ribs and setting broken bones so they would set properly. "How should I make this up to you?"

Emma snorted. "Heal quickly."

\-----

It was three more decades before Emma met the Guardians, finally relenting and accompanying Pitch to the New Years Ball. Father Time was this year's host, or Pitch would never have come to begin with, but once they arrived rumours began to spread like wildfire through the crowd. Emma nervously checked herself, straightening her simple black dress and making sure her updo hadn't slipped sideways. Pitch took her hand in his and held it tightly.

"Do not worry, darling." he whispered as they passed a handful of fire spirits playing catch with an ember. It guttered in one girl's hand as she stared open-mouthed at them.

Emma ducked her head and leaned into Pitch's shoulder. He'd only changed to a robe which closed properly, tiny golden clasps running up his front, and the fabric was comfortingly familiar against her forehead. "I shouldn't have come."

Pitch pulled her aside behind a column draped with fabric that shimmered silver, blue, and gold. "Emma, they are staring because it is my arm you are on. Not a soul outside those at our ceremony know that I have you, and they are wondering what a beautiful thing like you is doing with an ancient spirit like me."

Emma frowned slightly, running her thumb over the bloodstone on her husband's left ring finger. Pitch sighed and cupped her cheek. "I take off my ring when I go out, so that nobody will think I have someone to lose. Please, Emma, you must understand. I hid you away for-"

"Dude, that's just wrong."

The grey-skinned couple turned to see Jack Frost leaning casually against the next column over, and Emma scowled. "Shoo, the adults are talking."

He pouted and hopped over, joining them in the shadow, "What, just cuz I'm under a thousand I don't get to think locking somebody away is wrong?"

Emma nearly smacked him on the spot, but Pitch's hand on her shoulder made her stop.

"This is between my wife and I." he said coolly. "Now if you would excuse us, I believe she was going to interrupt me before you so rudely butted in."

Jack blinked owlishly. "Wife?" he looked at the pair of them, "Dude, I thought she was your sister."

Emma giggled behind her hand. "No, he's my husband." she held out her hand, making sure the braided ring was prominent. "Emilia Black."

Jack fell out of the air, landing on his butt. "Emma?"

She looked at him, head tilted. "I'm sorry, have we met? Immortality wreaks hell on a person's memory."

He shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. "No, sorry. You just remind me a lot of my sister."

Emma nodded solemnly, catching his tone. "I'm so sorry for your loss." she patted his sleeve. "But you're a Guardian now, so I'm sure she'd be proud."

Jack grinned and nodded once. "I think she would be."

Emma pulled Pitch out onto the dance floor, where they joined the small cluster of waltzing spirits. The Nightmare king spotted Frost talking to Toothiana, but decided not to mention it to his Queen. Telling Emma of her relation to the Guardian would likely result in him being brought to their home, which could only possibly end in things being frozen and broken and flung about by that careless breeze of his. So instead they whirled around the dance floor, her standing on his toes in her glittery black ballet flats. Midnight came, and they kissed to catcalls from nearby spirits.

By the time New Year (this one named Audrey) was introduced and the party ended, most everyone knew. Pitch Black hadn't been a bachelor for centuries.

\-----

"Jack, calm down. I can't understand what you're saying."

"I'm saying, my baby sister is the wife of the freaking Boogieman!"

"Jack, it can't possibly be the same Emilia. You saw the tombstone yourself, she died twenty years after you did."

"Tooth, it _is_ her. I can tell."

"Jack, I'm sorry, but losing a Believer-"

"This has nothing to do with Ellie. Listen, Spirits don't forget, right?"

"Well, yes, usually. The process alters our minds and increases their capacity, otherwise Bunny would be completely insane by now."

"Well is it possible for a human to become a spirit without the brain alterations?"

"I've heard of it, but those spells haven't been used since Gilgamesh."

"Is there any other way? A, a ritual, possession, potion?"

"Well there have been rumours of immortality potions since the start of time, but I've never heard of one that actually worked. Except for the Flamels, and they never shared their secret with anyone."

Jack tugged on his hair. "There _must_ be a way." he clicked his fingers. "Her teeth! Tooth, you've got Emma's baby teeth, right?"

"Um, yes?"

Jack grinned, eyes shining. "Can I borrow them? I swear I'll have them back to you in a day, two tops."

"Jack, I don't usually-"

" _Please_ , Tooth. If its not her you'll get them right back, I just... I need to know."

She worried her lip for a moment, then sighed and summoned over a group of her mini-fairies. "Girls, find Emilia Overland." turning back to Jack, she gave him a stern look. "You owe me. _Big time_.

Jack nodded, accepting the box as it was dropped into his hand. It was nearly identical to his own, but the face had longer hair and a pensive frown. "I'll have it back here in two days, tops." he reassured her with a grin, right before throwing himself off the edge of the platform.

Tooth shook her head and shooed her girls off to continue their duties. "The things I do for that boy." she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

\-----

Emma looked down at the boy spirit with a single raised eyebrow. "Now that you've cleared up your identity as one of my husband's enemies, would you mind explaining why you were trying to sneak into our home?"

Jack grinned sheepishly and slid a hand into his hoodie pocket, wrapping it around the tooth box. "Just wanted to see you again. We met at that party, remember?"

She nodded. "I remember. In case the ring was too subtle for you, I'm married."

Jack nodded, eyes flicking to the braided metal and back to her face. "I brought you a gift, courtesy of Queen Toothiana."

Emma almost grinned at his formality, but kept her face carefully indifferent. "Tell the Tooth Fairy that I have no need of her offerings. My husband provides what I cannot procure myself."

Jack grinned mischievously and pulled the box out of his pocket. "I doubt he could get this for you."

Emma tilted her head, examining the long narrow container. "What is it?"

Jack held it out in his open hand. "Take it and see for yourself."

Slowly, as if she expected the container to be booby trapped, Emma lifted the box from his palm and ran her fingers across the sides. Her thumbs traced down the middle of the lid, and Jack grinned when white light shone forth. She was Emma, his Emma, his baby sister. No matter she was immortal at the whim of the Boogeyman, she was safe and healthy. And that was the only thing that mattered.

\-----

Emma gasped as memories flooded over her, staggering back against the railing and gripping hard enough to break her skin on the rough metal. Parents, friends, pleasant holidays, but everything underlined with a sense of guilt and loss. A brother. She'd had a brother, but he'd died when she was young. The rush ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving her gasping for air.

"Did it work?"

She hurled the box at Jack, scowling at the smaller spirit. "Why." she hissed. "Would I want to remember that? My brother drowned because of me!"

Jack took a step back, not breaking eye contact as he knelt to pick up the tooth box. "Emma, calm down." he said slowly, trying to remember what their mother had sang when one of them was upset and drawing a blank. "Remember that song mom used to sing?" he hummed a few bars, and her eyes went wide.

"You?"

He beamed. "Me."

"Emilia, may I ask why Frost has come here?" Pitch drawled, stepping out of a nearby shadow.

She grinned, stepping towards Jack to grab his arm. "He brought me my memories. He's my big brother, the one that drowned."

Pitch raised an eyebrow. "Drowned? Well that does explain a few things."

Jack stuck his tongue out at Pitch. "I can't believe you married my baby sister."

"And I can't believe you haven't matured beyond the age of ten." he drawled in response. Turning to Emma, he brushed some hair behind her ear. "My dear, I ask only that you be careful if you meet your brother outside of our home. And if he comes to visit here, please keep him from breaking the irreplaceable things."

She giggled and took his hand, kissing each scarred knuckle. "Of course."

Jack blinked, then made a face when Pitch drew her up for a kiss. "Eew, Pitch, that's my _baby sister_!"

The grey-skinned couple broke apart, and Emma giggled as Pitch put a hand around her waist. "Jack, what do you say we meet tomorrow evening at the statue of Mr. Burgess?"

The Guardian considered for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "Tomorrow, sundown, sofa place. Got it." he stuck the tooth box back in his pocket. "See ya then!" he waved once and flitted out of sight, leaving Emma to chuckle and shake her head.

"He hasn't changed a bit."

Pitch smiled and stroked her hair. "I'm glad you're happy." he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. But if Frost broke anything of theirs, there'd be hell to pay.

**Author's Note:**

> These two are my favourite RotG rarepair. I can't possibly be the only one who ships them.


End file.
